Arabian Snow Storm
by Shahrezad1
Summary: What happens when you're stuck in a cabin in the middle of a blizzard with your worst enemy, who happens to be chased for who knows what reason?  Pure chaos.8 & 9 FIXED!
1. We shouldn't be fighting at all

Chapter#1. We Shouldn't Be Fighting At All  
  
Quatre walked into the fencing ring, looking around for potential rivals before putting on his white mask. Everyone was dressed alike, hiding both status and identity.  
  
As Quatre stretched and warmed up a faceless person walked up and silently challenged him, making Quatre nod and get into started position.  
  
Right, left, parry, thrust, they fenced, the rest of the people around the turning to watch the expert fighters as a desperate battle was fought. Quatre's opponent lunged, aiming for his gut, but Quatre, who wasn't ready to be put back into the hospital again, swatted it away, working hard not to lose his grip on his blunted rapier.  
  
His opponent slowly nodded in respect before beginning it's barrage of attacks again.  
  
Quatre, who was having a devil of a time breathing by now, realized the fight was going to end soon and it he didn't do something he wouldn't end up the winner.  
  
Desperately with the last of his strength he lunged and miraculously his opponent didn't catch it in time for him to gently hit his rival...in the heart. Slowly his opponent nodded before saluting him and removing his helmet in unison with Quatre.  
  
Quatre looked up.then took a step back at what he saw. Dorothy Catalonia?! "Dorothy," he said, speaking his thoughts aloud, "what are you doing here?"  
  
"I would like to have a word with you," she said slowly, softly, "if I can."  
  
"Uh..sure Dorothy," Quatre finally stammered as he followed the blonde woman out, her long hair pulled up in a bun at the back of her head. He tried to ignore its silkiness as they walked.  
  
"Yes? What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked as they entered his study, still dressed in his fighting outfit.  
  
"There's a group of Rebels who're wanting to take over. I thought you'd like to know, "with that she turned and started walking out.  
  
"Wait! Um...how'd you get the information and...what's the group called, if you know?"  
  
Dorothy sighed, turning, "I thought they'd start something interesting. Unluckily, most of them are men and don't appreciate the female mind, so I got no higher than secretary to a bunch of old Generals. The group is called 'Frost's Wings'." With no further ado she left, leaving Quatre gaping at the closed door. He then swore and went off to change. 


	2. Man, That Was Short AKA Rocky Road Ice C...

Chapter#2. Man, That Was Short. AKA Rocky Road Ice Cream  
  
"Hey, wa'sup Quat!" Duo said, plonking himself down beside the blonde man.  
  
Quatre ignored him, instead staring into his bowl of soup morosely.  
  
"Hello? Boy-In-Pink? You awake?" Duo waved one hand in front of the former Arabian Pilot.  
  
"Not right now, Duo. I'm not in the mood," Quatre slowly picked up his cup of tea and took a sip, "besides, I don't wear pink anymore."  
  
"Sure you do, you just don't do it as much as you used to," Duo absently protested, his long brown braid swishing as he paced, "c'mon buddy, you can tell me."  
  
Quatre distributed a glare upon his friend, which shut the brunette man up. It was at that moment that Relena walked into the kitchen, where Quatre had staked himself out in depression.  
  
"Hey guys," she chirped cheerfully, "guess who I saw?"  
  
"I dunno. Who?" Duo shrugged as he ripped open a candy bar.  
  
"Dorothy Catalonia," Quatre started at her words but tried to hide his reaction. Duo raised one eyebrow but wisely stayed mute. Relena went on as if nothing had happened, "I saw her at Dillards and we talked for a bit. She said she was in town for business." Once more Quatre stared into his soup, as if by doing that he could turn it into stone.  
  
"What else happened?" Duo had finished off the candy bar and was now pulling out a container of Chunky Monkey ice cream from the freezer.  
  
"Well, I offered to let her stay but she turned me down, said she had already rented a hotel room that was close to where she was working," Relena was babbling and everyone knew it, they just didn't comment. Heero had disappeared again, hardly two days ago, and she'd begun talking a lot to hide her distraught emotions. Hilde had even come over to give Relena support. That had made Duo happy.  
  
"You think she'll visit?" Duo asked between spoonfuls of Rocky Road.  
  
"Not likely," Relena shook her head.  
  
Quatre mumbled something into his soup and when his friends asked him to speak up, he said loudly, "she came and told me about a group of rebels."  
  
"Ah," Duo licked his spoon, "so that's why. Hey, does anyone other than me wonder why so many rebels have to sprout up right after we finally give them peace?"  
  
"It's Human nature to fight," Relena said slowly, remembering a conversation she'd had with a blonde friend, "and to want to fight for better things. Only the truly civilized can understand and accept peace."  
  
Duo grunted, "Hmm. Whatever you just said, I agree with it.even if I don't understand it."  
  
Quatre rolled his eyes. Abruptly the door burst open to show Catherine pulling along three people.  
  
"Guys, meet my old friends," Catherine grinned as she pointed toward each one individually, "Michelle, Ashley, and Maaike."  
  
The first one had shoulder length crimpy brown hair and blue eyes, the second had long red hair and aquamarine eyes, and the last had straight brown hair and brown eyes, along with a pair of glasses. Each one tentatively waved with exception of the last. The red-head nudged her in the ribs, making her scowl.  
  
"A bit quiet, aren't they?" Duo remarked smartly.  
  
Michelle rolled her eyes, "give us a topic and we'll never shut up."  
  
"Especially Maaike," Ashley added. Maaike scowled yet again from behind her wire rimmed glasses.  
  
"I hadn't seen them since my childhood, and just lately I stumbled upon them at their class reunion," Catherine gushed, "do you think they can stay here for a bit?"  
  
Relena and Quatre exchanged glances before each one sent the other an almost imperceptible nod.  
  
Catherine whooped, "Great! Ashley is majoring in journalism and Michelle and Maaike are becoming Authors. They don't really have student housing so..could they stay for a while?"  
  
"No Catherine, that isn't necessary," Maaike automatically said, shaking her head, "my sister already offered to board us, you know that."  
  
"Which sister?" Catherine slyly asked, watching Duo, "Brandi or Hilde?"  
  
Duo spat out a mouthful of ice cream, "Hilde? My Hilde?!"  
  
All five girls nodded, including Relena. Catherine spoke, "yeah. Turns out Hilde and Maaike were twins separated at birth. Un-identical twins. It's been genetically proven through DNA testing. Their Mom even has short black hair like Hilde with a curl on the forehead."  
  
"I think I should have a word with her," he muttered before leaving.  
  
"They don't talk much, do they?" Maaike stated wryly.  
  
"No," Catherine shook her head, "only flirt."  
  
Michelle chose at that moment to sigh dejectedly, "that's too bad, I wouldn't have minded dating him."  
  
Everyone turned to stare at her before Maaike finally said, "he'd kinda off limits, Michelle, he is dating my sister, after all."  
  
"Hmph," she sniffed, "your sister, not my sister, so he's not off limits to me."  
  
Maaike wisely said nothing 


	3. Rescuers Down Under

Chapter#3. Rescuers Down Under  
  
Quatre sat at his desk, reading his newspaper dispassionately. A dejected sigh burst from him as he set the paper down and stood up. He lived in a shared mansion with the other Pilots and Coherts from the War, but even still he felt lonely.  
  
"Pagan," he said to the older man as he walked down the stairs into the main hall, "have you seen Rashid lately?"  
  
"He's down by the stables, Mr. Winner," the older man bestowed upon him a quick bow before making his way to the kitchen.  
  
"Hn." Was all Quatre said as he went out the back door and followed the path to the stable. Rashid, having nothing to do and really no need to protect his master very much, had taken it upon himself to raise Arabian horses, then sell them to track owners for exuberant fees. It all worked out in the end and now Winner Arabians were prized over all other horses and were each a rather hefty sum. But they were worth it.  
  
"Master Quatre," Rashid said cheerfully as the blonde man walked up, "how may I help you?"  
  
"I was thinking of taking a break from my busy work schedule. Shall we go get a horse ready?"  
  
"Yes, Master Quatre. Melessandra's Vision?"  
  
Quatre nodded sharply, "sure. I haven't ridden ol' Sandy for a while."  
  
After disposing of his sports coat, climbing up on the horse, and putting it through its paces, he dashed across the beach, which conveniently the Mansion was built next to.  
  
They flew across the sand and his melancholy disposition seemed to disappear as he laughed, the wind sweeping back his silvery blonde hair.  
  
However, his peace was soon disturbed as a scream pierced the air and a slim figure dashed up like flotsam coming in from the sea. Following behind the figure were two men in black, with guns at their sides.  
  
Quatre, ever the rescuer even if he was no longer a Gundam Pilot, sped up, urging Sandy on until he'd gone past the pursuers and was parallel with the pursued. While with one hand he held the reins, the other was reaching out to the person who conviently recognized a rescuer when it saw one and grabbed hold, swinging up behind the rich Arabian. With not a moment to lose Quatre sped up again, leaving the men in black to eat their dust. 


	4. Oops, I Did It Again

Chapter#4. Oops, I Did It Again.  
  
Quatre had kept riding until it got much later. The sun had even retired for dusk. Behind him his unknown passenger had fallen asleep, leaning against his shoulder in bleary semi-conscious. But Quatre wasn't worried. He knew two things: 1. That he couldn't bring back his passenger to the mansion for fear of them being targeted 2. That he had a cabin out here they could stay in until they got everything sorted out.  
  
Taking a fairly hidden trail from the beach, he rode up to a small log cabin and carefully climbed off, picking up the now apparently female passenger of his around the waist and setting her on the ground.  
  
As she fought to stand up, still being half asleep, her head happened to loll back, making her hood fall off. Long streamers of silvery blond hair rolled down her shoulders and to her side as she collapsed against the horse, her eyes still closed.  
  
Quatre had seemed to go into shock for the first few minutes as he realized who it was, but woke up in time to catch her before she fell into a distinctly smelly pile of hay. With a sigh he carried her into the cabin before returning to lead Sandy to the stable and brush her down.  
  
When he returned to the cabin he still had to deal with the problem of her being asleep, which he immediately remedied by tossing a glass of water on her face. He smelled like horse and she probably wouldn't have liked him patting her face, he justified.  
  
Dorothy gasped as she sat up straight from where she'd been laid, the hems of her dress ragged and stained.  
  
"Quatre?!" She gasped out, "what are you doing here?!"  
  
"I should ask the same thing of you," he said flatly.  
  
Suddenly her eyes went wide as it all came back to her, making her groan into the pillow, "so.you saved me."  
  
"Yes, and now I'd like to know why I had the misfortune of helping you out," he stated pointedly.  
  
For once Dorothy, the woman who knew it all, was speechless. Finally she managed out, with a grimace, " 'Frost's Wings' society took acception to me divulging their secrets, now they want to get rid of the problem-Me. I'll have to leave town for a while," she stood up woozily, like a drunken sailor, before almost falling to the floor. Quatre managed to catch her in time and set her back on the couch, " thank you."  
  
"I have a place where you could go," Quatre offered.  
  
Dorothy hesitated for a few seconds before finally agreeing, "..okay, where is it exactly?"  
  
"All I can say is wear your snow suit," Quatre pulled out the cell phone that was always with him, "Hello Fredrick? Yes, I was wondering if you could set a shuttle flight for my Barmache Cabin for tomorrow. Yes, I know storm season is coming up there, I'll be going anyway. I have to drop off a friend, her mother is ill and my friend has been working here in L2. Thanks Fredrick."  
  
As Quatre hung up Dorothy stated plainly her dislike of the situation, "do you have to come with me? I can take care of my own business transactions, you know."  
  
"Yes, but this transaction has gotten way out of control. Besides, I'm know for seeing to all my friends personally. It would be out of character for me to just send you on your merry way, then they would really suspect something," Quatre had her bested and she knew it. He didn't doubt that she knew that he knew that she knew it. Their relationship had always been a complicated one.  
  
"All right," she finally conceded as she nodded sharply, "when will we leave?"  
  
"We'll have to ride to the helicopter pad and then take it to the shuttle. One of the Mogwanacs will be there and will make sure to take Sandy back for me," Quatre chose to ignore Dorothy's startled reaction at the new, decisive him, which immediately took charge.  
  
Soon enough night fell and they each retired to separate rooms of the luxuriant cabin. The next morning they confronted each other in the cabin's single bathroom.  
  
"You know I really don't need your help," Dorothy stated firmly as she brushed out her hair with a borrowed brush.  
  
"Really?" Quatre was shaving his three quarter shadow with an electric razor, "you mean I didn't have to save you from two men with guns? I'm sorry for not realizing that you could stab them to death with seashells." He turned away and picked up his denim jacket which had been laying on the counter.  
  
"Quatre," Dorothy finally said, coolly exasperated, "would you care to tell me what it going on? Normally I am the one testing the powers' patience and you're calming the waters with peace. What is wrong?"  
  
Quatre glanced at her for a few seconds before saying quickly, perhaps too quickly, "it's nothing. Just Stress is all."  
  
"It's more than just stress," Dorothy silently vowed, then and there, that she would find out what was wrong, even if it killed her. 


	5. I'm Dreaming Of a White Christmas

Chapter#5. I'm Dreaming Of a White Christmas  
  
They rode to the helicopter pad where everything went as planned, they were dropped off at Quatre's private shuttle with took them to the Earth. Dorothy had been supplied with some of Relena's winter clothing, as they were near the same size, and Quatre merely had his own dropped off by a Mogwanac.  
  
The trip was pretty uneventful until they reached port and their shuttle nearly rolled over in the turbulence. The lights went out and everyone crashed into one-another. When the lights turned back on Quatre realized Dorothy had been the one to plough into him and was as of now laying on his chest, her face inches from his own. Dorothy realized the situation immediately and, with a blush that was at odds with her usual countenance, stood up awkwardly.  
  
"Everybody okay back there?" Fredrick called out from the front.  
  
"Fine. We're all bloody fine," Quatre growled as he pulled himself up and grabbed Dorothy's overnight bag. After pulling on a thick, wool lined coat he opened the hatch and walked down an icy ramp to a snow covered S.U.V. and climbed in. Dorothy followed soon after.  
  
"Why are you coming?" Dorothy finally demanded, arching one forked eyebrow.  
  
"I need to check on something in the cabin and make a few phone calls," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.  
  
"Hn."  
  
The car battled against the elements as they drove up the nearly hidden path to the isolated cabin. After getting out Dorothy grabbed her duffel and Quatre got out the backpack of supplies for her stay. They walked up to the wooded building wherein Quatre immediately went to the com unit and Dorothy searched for a room.  
  
"Duo? Yeah, it's me. Okay, we have a problem, I want you guys to research a group called 'Frost's Wings', get Heero on the job if you can find him. They're after Dorothy, she's going to stay up here until we've dealt with them. 'Kay, bye." Quatre hung up and made his way to the kitchen where he began restocking the cabinets. Suddenly, without warning, the electricity all turned off.  
  
"Quatre?" Dorothy said as she stumbled warily through the darkened hall.  
  
"There are matches and candles in the kitchen, I'll check the fuse box," After checking all the toggles and switches with no luck, he groaned, "the power is out because of the storm," he turned on the vidphone and when it didn't respond he slammed his fist down on a tiled kitchen counter, working hard not to swear, "what else can go wrong?!" he demanded. There was a loud foreboding crash and Dorothy rushed to the window, matches still in hand.  
  
"That," she pointed outside toward a long log that looked as if it had been formerly a telephone pole. The wind was so hard it'd pushed it down.  
  
"I'll be right back," Quatre pulled on his coat and rushed into the freezing blizzard, finally reaching the car. After turning the key several times with no success he cursed and came back into the house, "I left the lights on, the battery is dead."  
  
"Wonderful," was all Dorothy said. She was at the moment lighting candles in the kitchen, "it's going to get cold in here tonight."  
  
Not long after, they were busy grabbing together piles of blankets and making their individual beds as warm as possible while they themselves put on numerous items of clothing. The temperature was already dropping to dangerous levels. Quatre was at the moment cooking a simple stew over the brick fireplace while Dorothy tried to stay warm.  
  
"So," she said, clamping down on the urge to chatter her teeth, "are you ever going to tell me why you're so out of sorts?"  
  
Quatre sighed, "it's just that I feel ov-," abruptly he stopped as a large bang shot out, indeed very much like a gunshot, "what was that?"  
  
"I don't know," Dorothy frowned in speculation.  
  
"I'll go check it out," Quatre pulled on his rubber boots and went out the door, the wind shoving in swirls of snow and making Quatre have to force himself out and pull the door closed behind him.  
  
"Be careful Quatre," Dorothy whispered softly. 


	6. What The Heck Am I Doing Here

Chapter#6. What The Heck Am I Doing Here  
  
Quatre shoved himself through the snowdrifts, his shoes becoming sopping wet as he tried futilely to stay warm. Briefly he took the time to shiver and rub his gloved hands together, blowing on them. He wasn't meant to go around in this weather, he was an Arabian born and bred, for heaven's sake. But, he was also a former Gundam Pilot and because of that his training forced him to deal with it.  
  
Abruptly out of the completely monotonous landscape of white on white something drew before him. It was the telephone pole, and as he examined it he realized something startling. With out waiting to think it out the rest of the way, he walked as fast as he could back to the enshrouded building (remember, he's walking through foot high snowdrifts).  
  
"Quatre," Dorothy gasped as the door swung open, "good, you're back. I was starting to worry."  
  
The blonde man stopped at that, "you were worried about me?" at her blush he slowly shook his head and went on, "anyway, I searched in the direction of the sound but didn't find anything. However, I saw the pole. It's been sawed in half, Dorothy. Sawed. Someone else is out here besides us, and I don't think it's tourists."  
  
Dorothy paled, slowly swallowing. She could probably guess who, and what she came up with wasn't exactly the greatest of conclusions, "Frost's Wings."  
  
"That's exactly what I was thinking," Quatre pulled off his sopping boots, "maybe would should wait out the storm inside."  
  
"And bar the windows and doors," Dorothy added, pulling her coat closer around her. It was a pastel pink, which bellied the mood going on around them.  
  
Another sound reached into the silence, that of tires squealing as they tried to find purchase in the icy snow.  
  
Quatre's eyes lit up, "that might be someone who can help."  
  
"Or maybe one of our enemies," Dorothy added forebodingly.  
  
"We'll have to go and see, then," Quatre put his boots back on, not more than five minutes after he'd just taken them off, and walked toward the door.  
  
"Then take this," Dorothy stopped him hesitantly as she handed him a flare gun for protection, "be careful." She said this with none of the flippancy that usually accompanied her words.  
  
"I will," he promised, hesitating before stepping back into the freezing cold weather.  
  
She sighed dejectedly as the oak door swung closed, "this is getting very redundant." 


	7. Dorothy the SnowWoman

Chapter#7. Dorothy the SnowWoman  
  
Quatre was, once again, freezing in the snow. Boy, this was getting old. He waded through the large mess, his hand beginning to freeze around his gun, when he saw the tail lights of a Ford truck. He discreetly followed behind it into an area that was cleared of trees. Two men climbed out, both of them huddling for warmth, and pulled out two shotguns from the bed of the truck. Quatre's stomach clenched. As the men spoke the wind snatched their words right from their mouths, so they had to yell loudly to be heard above the storm. It was nearly impossible for Quatre to overhear, but he wasn't a Gundam Pilot for nothing.  
  
"I can't wait to get out of this * expletive deleted automatically by Quatre * weather and get home to a bowl of chili," one said, the fatter of the two. He wore a knit cap and darned gloves.  
  
"Yeah, all for a dame who couldn't keep her mouth shut," the taller of the two shook his head bitterly, "man, what I would do for a smoke."  
  
The smaller barked out a laugh, "1. You're quitting. 2. Even if you had some they would just be blown out by the wind. Don't be an idiot."  
  
"I ain't no idiot," he said another expletive that would have been deleted by Quatre, had I tried to write it, "why in the * Deleted * did she have to pick a place like this to hide out at?!"  
  
"Perverse sense of humor, probably. Now shut up and get to work, I don't want to stay out here all night," they grunted and started pulling things from the truck, but Quatre didn't wait to watch. He'd seen enough.  
  
Quatre made his way back to the cabin but some sort of feeling held him back, like something wasn't right. He found out what it was when he suddenly heard a scream rise above the storm in the direction of..the pond! He ran as fast as he could, considering he couldn't really run, to the almost completely frozen over body of water. Dorothy's hand waved barely above the ice, where there was a hole from where she'd fallen in. He had to get to her before she was sucked under and drowned.  
  
"Dorothy! Hold on!" He called out as he skid on his knees toward the hole, careful of other weak patches there might be around it. He called upon all of his strength to pull her out of the water, slowly but surely. Her clothing clung to her and her skin had turned a shade of blue as she became deathly pale, paler than her hair and with a tint the same color as her icy eyes. Quatre, in desperation, sunk his arms into the water to pull her out, laying on his stomach, when finally he succeeded. She lay on the ice, gasping raggedly, as he clutched her to him, knowing she would die if he didn't get her warm soon.  
  
As he made his way through the icy blizzard, carrying Dorothy in his arms, he vaguely saw the Ford leave. Obviously the two men, hearing Dorothy's scream, had thought she'd drowned and were now returning to go back home where they didn't have to worry about things like women with big mouths. Or maybe they had heard Quatre's yell, and were now getting reinforcements. Who knew. All Quatre was worrying about right now was saving Dorothy.  
  
Finally he reached the cabin and shoved open the door with the last of his might. He had to get Dorothy warm. He had to get Dorothy warm. That was the only thought being processed through his mind as he held the shivering girl to himself.  
  
He rushed to the bedroom she'd chosen for herself and lay her down, wrapping all the blankets around her. When she still shivered he rushed to his room, then the others, and brought everything from the coverlets to the afghans with him, placing them all on her. He didn't even noticing his arms and feet freezing, he was so worried about the blonde woman.  
  
Still she shivered. Bits and pieces of a memory reached his brain, from standard Pilot training. Get the wet things off of the victim, dry them off, then wrap them in blankets. So he rushed to the bed and, ignoring his conscience telling him it would not be acceptable for him to do so, removed her clothing, setting it aside. He, of course, left on her underclothing for modesty's sake, then pulled out a blanket and rubbed her dry so that not an inch of her was left wet.  
  
Still she shivered. Finally in desperation he remembered one last thing. Shared body heat. He stifled a groan as he realized what that meant, stripped down to his boxers, and climbed in beside her, holding her as close to him as possible. For her to get warm, he kept telling himself, so she can live. He was not taking advantage of her.  
  
While he was telling himself that, the other part of his brain was mentally cataloging the long white limbs and flawless skin. Her meter long blonde hair he had placed in a turban-like towel but nonetheless some of it escaped, curling along the slim column of her neck. Color was returning to her snow white cheeks as her eyelashes fluttered in true sleep. With a sigh he finally relaxed, she was safe now, he didn't have to worry about her dying. Making sure she was snug against him, in case she went into a relapse he told himself, he slowly drift into sleep. And there a dream came upon him. 


	8. Dream A Little Dream

Chapter#8. Dream A Little Dream  
  
There Dorothy was, beside him, decked all in white. He didn't know why, of course, but who could understand dreams? His lips formed into two words of their own accord, but no sound reached his ears, he was yet to find out why.  
  
Suddenly he was transported to another place. Dorothy was there, too. Several blonde children played all about, with eyes varying from aquamarine, in very close shade to his own, to light blue, that reminded him of Dorothy's eyes. There she was, sitting quietly on the grass, happily. Happy as he had never seen her be before. In fact, now that he thought about it, she'd almost never seemed happy. Triumphant, yes, arrogant, of course, but happy? No, she'd never been happy.  
  
Everything changed yet again as a more somber scene filled the last. It was one that wasn't a dream, but a recent memory. A picture of her filled his gaze, from when he'd first pulled her from an icy grave. Death had been inches from taking her life as she's raggedly breathed what could have been her last breath.  
  
His heart clenched with fear, the fear of her dying, and in that moment he realized that he was in love with her. In love with the incredibly arrogant, foolish, intelligent woman he'd saved from an early death. She'd taunted him, ridiculed him, heck, she'd even stabbed him, but in the end he'd still fallen in love with her. And he knew that if she'd died he would have never found another like her, he would never have loved again. And he also knew that he wasn't going to lose her again. With newfound resolution he awoke, neither the sun shining nor the cold gone. But the wind had stopped, and if that wasn't an indication that things had changed, he didn't know what was.  
  
Quatre looked down at the woman he realized he was in love with and suddenly something hit him, making him realize the real reason why he'd been so angry lately. 1. He'd fallen for her like a stone in a well. 2. No one had seriously treated him like a man, so he hadn't believed what he'd felt. He'd completely questioned himself time and time again. Duo treated him as if he was still a boy, the kid of the group. Dorothy had always treated him as if he would never be her intellectual equal. But despite all their blindness, he had changed. And he was going to prove it.  
  
With a jolt Quatre sat straight upright as a slam and a light clatter filtered through his mind. Besides him Dorothy mumbled in complaint for the loss of heat, snuggling deeper into her comparative nest, against Quatre. However, Quatre was on the alert. Careful not to jolt the woman beside him he climbed out of the blanket folds into the cold night air, pulling out a pair of tan slacks from the closet and putting them on, making sure to pick up the flare gun on the night stand.  
  
It was kind of ironic that of all the rooms to pick from, Dorothy had decided on the one he normally slept in. It was a pale off-white color, with navy blue trimming that added a slight masculinity to the room, and all the furniture was made of lighter wood. It was a room where you could rest after a full day's work, a very calming room.  
  
Right now he wasn't wasting time wondering about the implication of this fact, though, especially as he had an intruder to deal with. His chest was bare and he absently shivered in the cold as he stalked through the night.  
  
Hiding, as only one who owned the dwelling could, he crouched behind each piece of art and furniture acquisition. As he nearly stepped on a pile of broken glass he scowled int the dark. They'd come in through the window and there was now a hole in the glass to prove it, filtering in frigid air.  
  
A shot was fired and a large hole appeared in the wooden wall beside him, splintering it.  
  
" *An obscenity that I think I shall delete for Quatre*" he muttered, wishing for a better weapon. Suddenly he remember something, ducking down into the corridor and into the last room there. He had to look for it quick, or Dorothy wouldn't stand a chance. I CAN'T BELIVE THIS IS LONGER THAN WUFEI'S! 


	9. Dream A Little Dreampart2

In a burst of activity he swiped his hand through drawers, under the bed, and in the wardrobe. Nothing. Sudden inspiration hit him. The bed was canopied and as he looked up he saw hemming in the shape of a small pouch. With a silent grimace for the ancient material being destroyed, he ripped open the sewn pouch and pulled out a handgun. A Colt 45, to be exact.  
  
You, as the reader, are probably wondering how he knew that the semi- automatic might be there and I shall explain as simply as possible, with one word, in fact. Heero. A while back Heero, who had decided he needed some 'time on his own' (aka disappear to annoy the heck out of Relena and make her worry), had broken into Quatre's cabin without permission. As he never felt truly safe, not even in sleep, it would be expected for him to have a weapon at hand.  
  
Quatre, after having found his salvation, jammed the flare gun into his pocket and rolled into the hall. Immediate gunfire followed and he winced as a Ming vase exploded. Even if they didn't kill them, they still had a lot to answer for. Quatre fired a few shots, hoping he didn't hit the Van Gogh painting he had in the living room, then sprinted for the door. Beside the door was a monitor and keypad and after a few seconds he'd put a lock down on his room so Dorothy'd be safe. Then he ducked out the door, into the freezing snow. Barefoot. Ugh, after all this he was going to take a nice long bath in steaming hot water, but for right now he'd have to ignore it.  
  
Running along the side of the building Quatre frantically tried to think up a plan, a shadowed figure following close behind, shooting a barrage of bullets at him. He, dodging, shot a few times over his shoulder and turned a corner...then skidded to a stop. There before him stood one of two men he'd listened in on, the shorter of the two, and no, they hadn't gone back for reinforcements....they'd gone back for guns. Really big guns. Like the one pointed at Quatre right this moment.  
  
Quatre audibly swallowed, wondering how he was going to get out of this predicament. Even if they didn't kill him he'd die of hypothermia soon enough, he had to do something.  
  
"Heh heh heh," the short man chuckled evilly, chewing on a wad of gum, "well, well, well, what do we have here?"  
  
The taller of the two men came up behind Quatre, puffing out his breath in large clouds of steam, "this guy is starting to tick me off." Both Quatre and I were very surprised that we didn't have to delete anything.  
  
"What do ya' think we should do with him," smirked the short one, aiming his Sig Sauer at Quatre's heart, "throw him in the lake?"  
  
Quatre shuddered. As unclothed as he was he'd probably die immediately, at least Dorothy had had a chance.  
  
The taller chuckled mercilessly, "then make him run a mile."  
  
"Perfect," two gold teeth shone as his mouth slashed into a feral grin.  
  
Right about the time when Quatre's hopes were dashed and his heart fell into his stomach, all three heard a whistle from above. The attic was been being remolded and Quatre knew that no one could get in there, so he looked up in surprise. The bullies followed suit.  
  
"Nighty night, suckers!" it was the most grammatically-challenged sentence Dorothy had ever belted out, but it would have to do for the situation. As they had their faces tilted upward it was the perfect opportunity for her to drop several vases on their heads, the vases of course being of the cheaper kind, nothing too expensive. Quatre watched with amusement as the partners in crime fell into unconsciousness, proud of Dorothy's ingeniousness.  
  
"Stop standing around, Quatre, and get inside. Or do you want to become a human popsicle?" Dorothy was in a long, thick robe of dark blue, which Quatre vaguely recognized as his own, her hair streaming over her shoulder as she leaned out an open window. So this was what Romeo had felt like, he thought to himself, well, if Romeo had lived in the middle of the Arctic.  
  
Finally he blinked out of his reverie, realizing how cold he was (his feet are going numb, is that any indication?) And rushed to the door, sliding it open and slamming it behind him. Dorothy was beside him immediately, a blanket and socks already there in her hand. As she led him to the couch, in front of a roaring fire she had quickly started up, she simply wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, rubbed his feet into warmth, sending pins and needles up his legs, and helped him into a pair of thick, wooly socks.  
  
"So," he said, a slight chatter in his voice, "you ever going to tell me why you went out there when I asked you to stay inside?"  
  
Dorothy blushed, looking down, "you were gone for a long time, I was....worried."  
  
"Hmm," was all he said.  
  
Dorothy rushed in, not allowing him to add more to his simple statement, "and I'm thankful for what you did, saving me, I mean....Well, I know you didn't have to do it and....um...you took care of me and...things...so, I just wanted to say thank you. I owe you my life, and I know you didn't have to do it. You had plenty of reasons why you could have dropped me down that hole and left me there, so I really appreciate what you did. Thank you."  
  
Quatre looked at her in astonishment, "do you really think that I hate you?! Dorothy, no matter what you've done to me I would have saved your life anyway. In any situation, despite anything that's happened in our past. I have never hated you. Ever."  
  
"Really?" Dorothy shyly looked up, twisting her long fingers into the fabric of his robe.  
  
"Yes, really really,"Quatre grinned, then decided to skirt the subject for a bit, "how'd you get out of the room? I put a lock down on it that could be authorized only by me."  
  
This time she smiled triumphantly, "Trowa showed me a few tricks, he said I might need them some day."  
  
"Trowa, hmm?" a slow smile pulled on Quatre's lips. His friend had known even before he had known that Dorothy was Quatre's match. He'd have to thank him some day.  
  
"He mentioned something having to do with 'One day, you too will learn what it is to trust a pacifist with all your heart'."  
  
"Hmm," Quatre murmured, looking deep into her blue eyes. Blue like a gem, or stream water, "and what do you think he meant by that?"  
  
"I....don't know," she said slowly, apprehensive at the spark in Quatre's eyes. She searched his face for some tell-tale sign for why he was acting so weird, "you can never quite understand what Trowa says."  
  
Quatre's eyes wandered to her lips, caressing them with the lightest of gazes, "Indeed."  
  
"And you never find out....until it's too late," she whispered, her lips a hairbreadth from his. Finally they bridged the gap in a soul wrenching kiss that lasted quite a while. Eventually, though, they settled down to take a nap in front of the fire and slept on for a long time. At one point Quatre had a pique of conscience and brought in the still unconscious 'Hit Men', tying them in a room in the back, but then returned to curl up with his love in front of the fire.  
  
That was how Trowa and Heero found them hours later, after the sun had come up and everything had calmed down. They exchanged a few smiles at the couple before removing the trespassers and leaving temporarily. Only Trowa came back, Heero had decided to disappear again, his vacation hadn't be nearly long enough.  
  
"Good morning," he said softly as they slowly awakened, Dorothy first, then Quatre as she poked him in the gut. Trowa smiled and took a sip of hot chocolate from the mug he was holding.  
  
"Er....hello Trowa," Quatre finally responded.  
  
"Had a nice night?" Trowa asked mildly, smiling slowly.  
  
Quatre stood up, helping Dorothy catch her balance. She was still in the long blue robe while Quatre's pants were ruined from wear and tear, "sure, lovely evening. We caught a few bad guys, almost died twice-once for each of us, had a lovely snow storm. Yeah, I'd say it was a nice night."  
  
"I thought so," Trowa smirked, "I'll just leave you two to talk." He set his mug on the coffee table and left, pulling on his coat before closing the door behind him.  
  
"Dorothy,"Quatre said first, "I-,"  
  
"Don't say it," Dorothy said softly, sadly, then abruptly smiled, "because I want to say it first."  
  
Quatre was shocked at that one, flabbergasted really. Dorothy took advantage of his speechlessness and held his larger hands in hers, "Quatre Raberba Winner, I am deeply in love with you. I have been for a long time, I just haven't faced it. I guess I've just accepted being a kind person...finally."  
  
A brilliant smile lit up his face, "I don't know what to say, Ditto or Omae o Korosu. It seems to work fine for Heero," he sighed, his broad, but not too broad, shoulders rising and falling as he looked down on the woman who he realized was now shorter than himself, "all joking aside....I love you, too, Dorothy. Will you marry me?"  
  
She smiled, "yes."  
  
In pure happiness he hugged her to him, swinging her around in a wide circle as her laughter mingled with his. Maybe there were some good points to snow storms. Now all he had to do was get her to pluck her eyebrows....  
  
LATER, ALL! -SHERRY1 


End file.
